


Almost Always

by MusicalCatharsis



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-03
Updated: 2017-10-03
Packaged: 2019-01-08 14:48:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 19,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12256503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MusicalCatharsis/pseuds/MusicalCatharsis
Summary: You always love her. And she almost always loves you.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story stemmed off of Chapter 4 of Thoughts. I'd suggest reading that first. It can be found here, on ff.net, or on Tumblr. Username 'itsdawnashlie'

"Emily? How is he? Where is he?" He could hear the frantic tone of her voice, giving the sweet melody a serrated edge. "Emily…please?" She was begging now, which was something he couldn't understand because she hated him. He knew she didn't really hate him…suspected as much when she started willingly sitting next to him in the conference room. Handing him a snack for the plane ride just like everyone else. He was hers…he knew it from the moment he saw her.

"Penelope, take a deep breath." And he could hear the squeak she emitted and he could see her nodding her head while breathing through her mouth. He could see her cat ears bobbing as they slid loose from her hair. "We're just waiting for him to wake up, but the Doctors said that he will be fine."

"I can't lose him." She whispered. "I don't hate him. Oh, I never told him that I don't hate him!" She said getting louder. "I love him, I mean I love you all, but I really think I love him, or I could love him, and it's crazy because it's only been a year and we don't talk, well not really, there was that one time he caught me crying about Spencer. And then he came back and said everything was ok, and I didn't understand at that time. But did you know he got me this little cat, and he remembered me when he was out on a case. Like he actually saw this cat in a store in Vermont and bought it for me. And that smile…that smile. And I can't lose him if he doesn't know." She paused, huffing. "He doesn't know." He heard the sobbing from the room, the pain he could hear laced throughout her tears punched him in the gut. He held his injured arm closer to his chest and he rolled and placed his feet on the floor. He barely made it two steps before something tugged him backward. Luke Alvez looked behind him and rolled his eyes before grabbing the IV pole and walking slowly to the door to his hospital room. He was ever so thankful that someone had gone to his apartment to pick up lounge clothes so that he was out of that flimsy hospital gown. He smiled at the nurse that was currently in his room, she nodded her head, gesturing to the door with your chart.

"It's good to get moving." She said urging him forward.

"But who am I kidding?" She continued "He won't return my feelings, I mean I know I'm amazing, and you know I'm amazing, but he doesn't know I'm amazing. And if I have to hear him say one more time "can you get that location?" I may scream because I'm Penelope freaking Garcia…but look at me, I'm a mess and I'm blubbering. And I've gained so much weight this last year because chocolate is the only thing that makes the pain of losing Derek bearable. And then Luke comes along, all coffee with the right amount of cream and sugar…and you're all staring at me. Why are you staring at me? Is he behind me?" She turned her head just a bit to see him standing in the door way to his hospital room.

"Hello Newbie, good to see you're finally up." She quipped while wiping the mascara that had accumulated under her eyes. He didn't like to see her cry, he realized, as he wanted to reach out to wipe away her tears. "Well now that I know that most of you are safe I'm going back to my lair. If you'll excuse me." She stood, walking quickly down the hall on legs that looked divine if he must tell the truth. He rolled the IV pole with him to stand near the rest of the team.

"Garcia?" He called down the hall. She stopped, turned and looked at him. "I think I may, possibly, theoretically, love you too." He said with a shrug of his shoulders and a crooked smile as he winced through the pain of his broken arm. He stepped closer to her, watching as her eyes grew wide.

"Actually, I know I love you." He said nonchalantly, still staring at the woman down the hall. Neither registered the team smiling.

"Pay up, JJ," Reid said, laughing as he was holding out his hand. You could still see the glaring white scar sliced across his palm. Luke turned to the rest of the team, giving them a look that clearly said get lost. And in return, they gave him a look that said: "You wish." He chuckled, turning back to the woman who was still frozen down the hall.

"This isn't, uh, how I wanted to tell you. Or well I didn't want to tell you this soon anyway, because who starts out a relationship with I love you. But I do." He said, stepping closer to her. "I was attracted to you at first you know, it was originally your smile that pulled me in, and I was trying to do anything to get you to smile at me, but that very rarely happened." He continued walking towards her. "But then you did smile at me, and I…I felt like I was flying." He had finally reached her. His hand extending out for hers. "And then you said my name." He continued in a lower voice. "You finally called me Luke, and I knew. But I didn't think that even in a million years that you would like me too." He took that final step to stand completely in front of her. "But it wasn't until Derek mentioned something to me that I realized you were it for me, and I couldn't go another day without you knowing. So Penelope freaking Garcia, I love you. And honestly, I don't give a damn who knows it."

"You're in my personal space, Newbie." She stuttered, refusing to look him in the eyes.

"I know." He replied.

"You shouldn't be in my personal space." She countered.

"I know, but I'm going to kiss you now, Penelope freaking Garcia, and you're going to let me."


	2. Chapter 2

Three Years Later:

"How's your mom?" you ask Sofia as you strap her into the pink car seat that has been installed in your truck since the day your mother found out you were having a daughter. Your backseat used to be pristine but is now littered with stuffed animals, books, shoes, and empty cups from the years past. It's funny to you how quickly times moves when all you want to do is go back and correct every mistake you ever made, especially when the biggest mistake you ever made was unknowingly walking away from the little girl that is staring up at you with a toothy grin at this very moment. She's clutching a purple bunny that has seen better days in her small arms, and you remember when your mother picked it out to give to her on the day she was born. Sofia hadn't let go of it since. You double check the straps around her chest and pull on the straps that anchor the seat to the frame of your truck. You know that the seat has been situated here for its entire life but you still double check the straps each time you place her in the car.

She brandishes a piece of paper with your name scribbled across the front in green ink from the pocket of her overalls, waving it in your face with a peal of laughter. You see so much of her mother in her that it hurts your heart most days when you look at her, forever reminded of the mistakes you made when you left. You can feel Penelope's eyes on the back of your neck as she continuously watches you strap your daughter into the car seat. You tell yourself that today is the day that you're not going to turn around and look at her, but today is just another day in a string of lies that filter through your brain. Silent drop offs were her idea once Sofia learned to toddle her way across the lawn to your car, pigtails waving in the wind as she races from the front door to your open arms. You lift your hand in a gentle wave, the motion of your hand cutting through the air ladened with remorse and apologies you never got to say to the mother of your child, the love of your life.

When you look at her on this Friday evening with the fading sun disappearing behind her small house on the outskirts of the small town, you see her husband Mark walk up behind her and wrap his arms around her waist behind the screen door. You nod your head and check to make sure that the child lock is still in place on Sofia's door before kissing your daughter on her forehead and closing the door softly, resting your head on the metal for a brief moment before jogging around to the driver's side and sliding behind the wheel. The letter you took from your daughter is crumpled in the fist you didn't realize you made and you smooth it out on the steering wheel before turning the car on. You tuck the letter in your visor, in the same place you tuck all the others for they are not filled with platitudes of how everything will work out between the two of you, but a list of things you should and should not do for your daughter.

Neither of you pretends that you could ever be friends again, not when you were never friends, to begin with. Just two co-workers who stupidly fell in love when every sign was there that you shouldn't. You no longer delude yourself into thinking that she will come back to you, waking up one day to realize that the last three years were a sick joke played on you both by the universe. You put the truck into drive, checking over your shoulder before pulling off of the dirt driveway and into the street, taking the only piece of her that you have left with you for the short weekend you get her for every two weeks

You try to remember the last time you talked to Penelope, and you have to think it was the first time you came to see Sofia after your tour ended. You showed up at her apartment in your fatigues clutching your hat in your hands as you nervously waited for her to pull the door open. Your mother warned you not to come right away, but if there was a chance that you could get your family back together, you were determined to take it. You remember that your breath caught in your chest the moment she opened the door, her hair had grown out over the past two years, falling to the middle of her back. She looked tired and you suppose that that's what happens when you end up raising a baby when the man who helped create him took off leaving a note on a kitchen island as a goodbye. You ran your hands through your shortened hair letting out a sigh as your eyes connected with hers. She told you in that moment that she was happy you were safe but that next time you should call before you came over. Before you could even open your mouth to say anything to her there was another set of footsteps that came down the hall, and you grip the steering wheel tighter at the memory of Mark holding your daughter on the other side of the screen door.

"Daddy?" she asks from the back seat and you shake your head, refocusing your mind from the past to the present, determined to make the best of the forty-eight hours you got to spend with your daughter. She's looking out the window, watching the trees pass by as you continue down the country road. "Can we go get ice cream?" she asks, reaching out with her small fingers to touch the cool glass. You smile back at her when you roll to a stop at the sign that's always been at the end of this road.

"After dinner," you say to her and smile when her face breaks into a wide grin. "What else did you want to do this weekend?" you ask her, taking the right at the stop sign that would guide you towards the highway. You will never understand why she decided to move out to the country with your daughter, but you surmise that it had to be because of Mark. Or maybe it was the school system or the fact that for the same price she could get acreage instead of a stone balcony off of her living room like she could in the city. She did it for your daughter you tell yourself, the daughter that you both share, the daughter that you both love more than words could ever describe.

When she doesn't answer your question you glance back to see her curled up with her bunny pressed under her head. Her eyes are closed and the soft rise and fall of her chest alert you that she's sleeping and you smile sadly at the fact that four nights a month you get to see her like this, so peaceful, so serene. Looking so much like her mother used to when you would stare down at her as she slept curled into your side.

It's not until later that night when Sofia is tucked safely into her bed in your house that you allow yourself to revisit the memory of the first time you met your daughter. She was clutching onto Mark's hair as she sat on his shoulders when she finally came into view. You remember that the sight of her literally tore the breath from your lungs, and you had wondered in that moment if you had ever seen something more beautiful. You don't quite remember what was said but you can clearly recall the moment she was placed in your arms. Her little hands coming up to your cheeks as you stared down at her. You remember her soft voice ringing in your ears when she reached out to hug you. _"Hi,"_ she had said and before you could help it you were clutching her tighter to your chest, tears rolling freely down your cheeks. You remember thanking Penelope, your tear filled eyes locking onto hers once again, before she turned from the door and walked back into the house leaving Mark to collect Sofia from you once you were done.

Currently, you're looking at a picture of Penelope that you took of her on the beach shortly before you left. You've kept it framed and in the living room for as long as you can remember, your excuse being that Sofia should always have a part of her mother no matter where she is, but that's just another lie you tell yourself on a daily basis. You didn't hear the small shuffle of feet on the staircase but you did feel it when Sofia crawled her way into your lap, settling under your arm and covering the both of you with her blanket. She reaches out and takes the picture from your hands.

"Daddy?" she asks, her voice sounding small in the large living room. You make a noise to let her know that you're listening. She turns her head to look up into your face, shifting herself in the chair. "Why don't you and Mommy live together?" Your hand comes up from the arm on the chair to gently lay her head on your chest.

"How about I tell you the story of how Mommy and I met?" you ask, looking down at her. She smiles up at you and nods.

"I love that story!" she says as you stand with her in your arms, heading back up the stairs to her bedroom. When she's settled back under the covers with her bunny tucked under one arm you pull the rocking chair closer to her bed and turn off the light. Settling yourself into the chair you lean back and close your eyes, tilting your face away from the nightlight so that your daughter doesn't see the tears that are sure to fall down your face as you tell her how you met her mother, the story that reminds you of everything you'll never have again.

"Your mother had the prettiest smile Daddy had ever seen…" you begin with a sad smile.


	3. Chapter 3

She looks up at you with a wide grin, face sticky with syrup and what you're sure is Roxy's collar around her head as a band holding her hair back, holding her plate up to your face in a silent question. You turn your head to look at her in this moment, remembering the time that Penelope had finally tried your lasagna, and she had repeated the exact motion. Your girls are forever driven by the consumption of food that you cook, and you're always only too happy to oblige them, in any way that you can. Taking the plate from Sofia you walk back over to the stack of pancakes waiting by the stove and place one onto the face of some Disney princess. When you turn around to hand the second pancake to your daughter she has your breakfast pulled in front of her, cheeks already full of food, and her glass of milk to her lips trying to quickly wash down the evidence. Letting out a low chuckle you tell her to carry on, finishing your breakfast from a pink plate and a yellow fork with prongs that don't reach past your lips.

"What did you want to do today?" you ask her, and she pauses with another piece of pancake to her lips and looks at you. It takes you a second to realize that you know the look that she gave you in that moment, it was the same look that Penelope used to give you before she demanded some insane activity. You watch as your daughter slowly places the bite of pancake into her mouth and you watch her fingers tap on the counter as she counts her bites, something Penelope had told you her mother taught her to do in order to avoid choking. You pause with a cup of coffee to your lips, smiling over the rim of the mug as your daughter becomes distracted by the sight of Roxy running across the backyard to answer your questions. Her little hands fly to her head, double checking to make sure that the collar is still holding her hair back before she slides out of her chair and takes off running for the back door that you left ajar.

It's another routine that she must have inherited from her mother. You thought that you had long forgotten the sight of Penelope chasing after Roxy in the glow of the rising sun, nothing but a t-shirt on from the night before. She would chase the dog around the house before they would both finally join you in the bed, crawling under the sheets and falling back asleep for several more hours. You walk over to the sliding door, your feet also bare you realize as you step onto the layer of dew that coated your deck overnight in order to keep a better eye on your daughter. You see her brown hair flying behind her, sunlight illuminating the natural blonde highlights that show up in the summer months. Her little laughter echoes across the yard as she goes to pet Roxy before the dog takes off across the yard again.

When your phone rings from inside your pocket, you know it's the morning text message from Penelope asking to FaceTime with Sofia, and so you shoot back a text, letting her know that you'll call in a few minutes but that Roxy was playing with her favorite girl after breakfast and you didn't want to interrupt them. She doesn't usually respond after you give her a time frame for a call but she does this time, requesting a picture of Roxy and Sofia, and you're only too happy to oblige. Sending her one of the two of them at the beach a few weeks ago before reaching out to take a picture of the duo now. When she responds for the third time you begin to get worried and hover your thumb over the call button. Your worries lay forgotten as Sofia and Roxy both come bounding up the steps towards you, both trying to climb into your lap at the same time.

"Has Mama called yet?" she asks and you nod your head proceeding to help her connect a call to Penelope, you walk away once you hear her voice, and have to remind yourself that there was no other choice but for you to meet and get to know your daughter through video chats. You remember the first time you actually answered a call from Penelope was after your mother told you that Penelope needed to speak with you, that it was important, and that you better answer the chat the next time she called you. Closing your eyes as you hear her voice filter through your living room, you think back to the day that she told you she was pregnant with Sofia, and you realized that you broke three hearts that day, not the two you intended.

_When she finally came into focus on the screen her hair was pulled into two pigtails, each with tendrils framing her face. Her eyes are puffy and red rimmed as if she's been crying all this time, and you realize that you couldn't blame her if she had been. You certainly hadn't been sleeping well the past few months, and so you just took a moment to look at her, actually look at her. She's fidgeting, a piece of paper clutched between her hands, and she's avoiding your eyes. You take a deep breath, running your hands down your face, and you realize that you're avoiding looking her in the eyes too._

" _How are you, Pen?" you ask, rushing the question out on an exhale and you stiffen, waiting for her to respond. She takes a shuddering breath, her eyes continuing to stare down at the piece of paper in her hands and you realize that they're trembling. She looks up at you and even though you're hundreds of miles away from each other, your heart reaches out to her._

" _I'm pregnant," she answers you holding up the piece of paper and you watch as the picture comes into focus, the sonogram showing the tiny embryo. You're quiet for a moment, your eyes are unmoving as you stare at the picture, your hand reaching out to touch it on the screen. She's continued talking but the only thing that you're focused on is the picture that is still displayed on the laptop. You don't realize it but you realize that you're crying as you continue to stare at the picture._

" _Luke?" she asks, pulling your eyes away from the sonogram to look at her face again, you're shaking your head at the knowledge that you're going to be a father. You're going to be a father. You're going to be a father and you're not there to help with anything. You're going to be a father and you left the mother of your child with a letter telling her that she was better off without you. You're going to be a father, and you find that the only place you want to be in this moment is back home with your family._

_Better men have gotten killed for less, you remind yourself as you look up at Penelope with tears shining in your eyes. You're nodding your head at her, smiling now, and you're making promises that you're not sure you're going to be able to keep. You're telling her that once you get back you'll marry her, that you'll buy a house, that you'll be together for good this time. With a sad smile, she tells you to save your promises for someone who may believe you at some point in time, but that person isn't her anymore. She tells you that she's happy for the child you gave her, that you'll co-parent, but the day you got onto that bus without so much as a verbal goodbye was the day you closed the door on anything between the two of you._

_Better men have made this mistake before and lived to tell the tale._

"Daddy?" her voice pulls you from the memory as she hands you the phone, "Mama says hi," she says, looking down at her feet, something that you know means that she's lying. You reach out and pull her up to settle on your hip, walking her into the bathroom and filling the tub with soapy water and helping her climb in. You turn your attention for a moment to grab her toys from under the bathroom sink as she waits impatiently for you to place her into the tub.

"How about I finish telling you the story of how I fell in love with your mother?" you ask her as she reaches out to play with the bubbles. She's nodding her head as you soak her hair with warm water, sudsing up the brown locks before you look down at her, with her bubble mustache. You chuckle, telling her to lean her head back so that you can rinse her hair.

"Mommy was upset with Daddy, you see, I was new to the team and had taken Uncle Derek's place. She wasn't too happy about that, and so she began calling Daddy 'Newbie'..." you continue, as you pull her out of the tub and wrap her in a large blue towel.

"But that's not your name, Daddy," she says, laying her head on your chest. You chuckle as you proceed to help her get dressed.

"No, but Mommy was talking to me, and that's all that mattered to Daddy at that time," you say, settling her onto the counter facing the mirror as you pull her brush out of the cabinet, slowly pulling it through her wet strands. As your fingers dance over her hair, braiding it into two pigtails, you continue the story. "Mommy never really went out of the office at that time, but she came along on a case where we had to catch a very bad guy, and your mother was brilliant… is brilliant still."


	4. Chapter 4

Three Years Later:

* * *

Before you know it Sunday evening rolls around and with it comes the eventual tantrum that Sofia devolves into when you pack her back up for the hour drive home. They didn't start until after the wedding, or at least that's what you'd like to think because they've been happening for the past three years. You like to think that maybe it wasn't just your mistake that led to visits every other weekend, but also her marriage being a catalyst for your broken heart. But it's been at least three years since you watched her walk down that aisle, forever walking away from you. You shake your head as you help your daughter slide into her shoes, tying the knot with the bunny ears the way she likes, and place a kiss on her forehead. You chuckle at her sitting on the couch in front of you, her body a tiny speck on the brown leather, with her arms crossed over her chest and her lip jutting out so far you're sure it's going to hit the floor. You lean back and sit on the coffee table clasping your hands between your knees in front of you and wait for a few moments before you speak, making sure to gather your thoughts.

"Sofia..." you begin, a nervous sigh escaping through your dry lips. "You have to go home." you try to explain, but even though your daughter is smart for a six-year-old girl, you know that you can never string together the correct words to explain to her that she couldn't live with you, that her place was home with Penelope, even though you'd give anything to have her with you every day. Her lower lip begins to tremble as she looks at you with watery eyes, a large tear rolling down her round face, she reaches up to wipe at her face angrily with her sleeve before wrapping her arms around herself.

"But I want to stay with you, Daddy," she says, voice wavering under the pressure of tears she refuses to shed, ever the picture of the strong willed personality of her mother shining through in this moment. You nod your head at her, your left hand coming up to pinch at the bridge of your nose before running down your face. Every other weekend you had the same argument with her, every other weekend you had to explain to her once again that you and Penelope loved her very much and that's why you shared her the best that they could. Most times you resort to slinging her over your shoulder with a promise to grab ice cream on the way home, something that halfway into the drive she forgets about as she cries herself to sleep in her booster seat.

"You get to see me next Saturday." you remind her, reaching out to tilt her head so that she can look at you. Your heart is constricting with the sight of her tears and you reach out to wipe her cheeks of any moisture that she let slip onto her face. You smile, a gentle half smile to get her to slide off of the couch and into your open arms. She's nodding her head now, baring her missing two front teeth, and clutching her purple bunny which now has stitching along both ears as she reaches up to wrap her arms around your neck in a hug.

"You promise?" she asks, voice smaller than you ever remember hearing it, and you look down at the small child as you stand, placing your hand upon her head. You feign surprise at her question, gasping loudly and clutching your heart in a loud theatrical way.

"You wound me, Princess, as if I, your gallant father, would ever miss your sixth birthday!" you exclaim, reaching down to pick her up and spin her around. "Now who wants ice cream?" you ask placing her softly back onto her feet.

"Me!" she exclaims, racing to the front door, her bunny laying on the floor forgotten. She used to take it everywhere she went but the past month after your split from Allie, she began to leave it at your house. Telling you sleepily one night that she didn't want you to be lonely, because mommy had her and Mark, and you only had Roxy. You remember kissing her forehead and telling her to sleep peacefully, you left her bedroom with a sad smile, remembering the two relationships you failed at with a shaky breath. "Daddy, hurry up before all the strawberry ice cream is gone!" she calls out to you as you lean down to pick up the bunny, placing it on its side of the couch, a lonely thought stretching across your mind as you check your pockets for your wallet and phone.

Breaking tradition Sofia doesn't fall asleep halfway through the drive home, and so you have to actually stop for ice cream, making sure to get her strawberry with jimmies in a cup, with a cone, and three cherries and a splash of whipped cream. Sofia is attached to your back with her arms gripped firmly around your neck as you pay for the ice cream and the waitress smiles at you both as she hands you the cup full of ice cream. You sit her in the booth closest to the door, making sure that she has plenty of napkins before you send Penelope a short text, letting her know that you're going to be late for drop off due to this litter excursion. She doesn't respond, which is normal for the way your co-parent relationship, especially with the rapid devolvement and your general dislike for her husband.

Twenty minutes later you're pulling onto the dirt road that will take you to the house Penelope shares with Mark as you and Sofia are singing the alphabet song, making sure that she can remember all of the letters. You don't question the strange car in the driveway, as whoever is visiting when Sofia is with you is none of your business, as Penelope has told you on several occasions. Reminding you with harsh words and sharp glares that you lost the right to question her over seven years ago, and you'd do well to remember your place in her life. Sofia is looking out the window and you hear her huff in frustration as you pull into the driveway, thrusting the car into park and turning around in your seat to look at her. She's glaring at the car, and you furrow your brows, wondering what has your normally bubbly daughter looking so angrily into the distance.

"Lucy is here again, she's Mark's special friend," she says in explanation with out needing to be asked, turning to face you. "But we're not supposed to tell Mom about Lucy." She turns back to look at the car as you look at the front door, a petite blonde exiting from the house patting her hair as she races across the front lawn. You watch her slide behind the wheel of her car, her eyes connecting with yours as she drives past you, and before you can talk yourself out of it you're out of the car and unbuckling Sofia instructing her to go play in the back yard. You don't remember how many steps it normally takes you to get to Penelope's front door, and you don't count how many steps it takes you today. You wait for Sofia to safely go into the backyard through the white gate before you pound on the door, waiting for Mark to answer.

Smarter men would have kept the screen closed as they opened the front door to their wive's enraged ex-boyfriend. Your brain is on auto-pilot as you reach out, grabbing him by the collar and pinning him to the front of his house. You lift your fist and prepare yourself to slam it into his face, but you stop as a giggle filters to the front of the house. Releasing him you step back, righting your shirt and cracking your knuckles. Mark is out of breath and rubbing the back of his head, as he glares at you.

"You're having my daughter lie for you," you growl, looking the man in the eye, leveling him with a glare you're not sure you've ever given someone before. Cheating has never been okay in your book, and even though you broke Penelope years ago, you never once broke her trust in this manner. Weak men, usually men who have everything going for them, turn to cheating in a pathetic attempt to make themselves feel better. "I'm not okay with that, so either you tell Penelope or I will," you say, walking off of the porch and heading towards the backyard to say goodbye to your daughter.

"You still love her," he says after you, not denying the fact that he was having an affair, cheating on the love of your life in the house that she helped pay for. A house that she helped fill with happy memories, years of birthdays, Christmases, Halloweens. You don't turn around to look at him, rather keeping your eyes level with the expanse of trees that border their property. "She'll never love you back," he says, and you know he's trying to get under your skin. He does this every couple of months, another pathetic attempt to make himself feel big in his relationship and make sure that you continue to know your place on the outskirts of Penelope and Sofia's lives. You turn around to look at him one last time.

"I'll always love her," you admit, the words brushing past your lips before you could stop them. You turn back to the gate, calling out for Sofia in order to give you a hug as Penelope pulls into the driveway. You don't turn to look at her, instead grip your daughter tighter with promises of seeing her next weekend for her birthday party. Penelope brushes past you pulling Sofia into a hug and placing a kiss to her hairline. You close your eyes as you breathe in the same perfume she's been wearing for years, before standing up. You clutch your keys in your hands, reaching down to rustle Sofia's hair, your hands pausing over Penelope's head before you shove it into your front pocket and walk back to your truck, climbing into the front seat and driving away. You don't look in the rearview to see your daughter standing in a cloud of dust.

* * *


	5. Chapter 5

"I'm not going to get into a pissing contest with you at my daughter's birthday party," you admit, turning your attention to the other man in Sofia's life, reminding him that no matter what he does, you will always be her father, and as much as he pretends, he will never hold that position in her life. The other man had clearly been drinking as he smelled of a dingy bar at barely two in the afternoon, surrounded by children and other parents, the members of the BAU team scattered around the yard were watching the pair of you closely. You know that they can tell just what you are thinking by your body language, given the fact that you all have been working together for close to a decade. And ever since you had learned of Mark's affair you were in a mood, one that you couldn't quite place yourself, and you found that you could no longer look Penelope in the eye at work. The fragile relationship the two of you had built over the years shattering when you snapped at her in the conference room the other day. You don't quite remember what you had shouted at the woman as she finished the presentation, making a slightly snarky comment to you across the table. In that moment the only thing that you could think to do was to lash out at her, to make her so angry with you that she stopped looking in your direction with those beautiful brown eyes, because the only thing you wanted to do was to ruin her marriage and steal her away from the life that she had constructed without you in it.

"Because you'd lose," he continues, prodding the buttons he knew would usually send you into a frenzied anger, something that he pulled whenever he was feeling you and Penelope start to form a friendship outside of work, something he pulled when he knew he needed to show her the side of you that she couldn't stand. But not now, you scold yourself as you feel your anger rising, not today in front of the children, in front of the other parents, in front of her. You have to remind yourself that today isn't about you and Mark, or you and Penelope, today is about Sofia and you refused to ruin her birthday party by assaulting her step-father. "I was there for the first year of her life, while you ran off like a coward." he finishes, raising the bottle of beer he was drinking to his lips and taking a sip. "You don't belong here. You should just leave before you ruin Sofia the same way you ruined Penelope." Pausing for a moment you contemplate the words that had just left the other man's mouth, and those closest to you still under the accusation. You're not sure if the other patrons of this party knew that you left Penelope and Sofia because you had a duty to your country, a duty to those like Mark who never enlisted, a duty to protect the citizens all around him no matter the cost. And when you walked away almost seven years ago you were willing to die for your country, if that was the cost of her freedom. You hear the sharp whisper of someone around you, telling your story, spilling your secrets and so you lash out in the only form that you could without causing a scene.

"How's Lucy?" you ask him before you turn to walk away. A two word reminder that however fragile your position in Penelope's life was at any given moment, his was even more fragile. A two word reminder that he was walking on a tight rope with no net as you followed his eyes across the yard to where Lucy was sitting with her husband, ever the picture of perfection. You don't say anything else as you walk across the yard to stand by Spencer and JJ, raising the can of soda to your lips before telling them that you didn't want to discuss it. But like everything else on this team, your relationship is on display, and easily profiled. You stiffen when JJ lays her hand on your arm, drawing your attention to her and away from Lucy and Mark who were currently whispering over the grill. Your eyes narrow when he reaches out to touch her on the arm, his hands lingering a little too long for a friendly hello, and you hope that Penelope can't see this because she's not a stupid woman. She's far from stupid and you know that she would piece two and two together in the blink of an eye.

"He's insecure about his place in his family," JJ says removing her hand from your arm, bumping you with her shoulder. She places her hands on her stomach, patting the bump with a small smile. You smile at her, remembering the day that she announced that her and Will were finally expecting a daughter, after the four boys she had brought into this world. She punched you on the arm when you finally got back state side, telling you that she would never forgive you for having a girl before her.

"He's got both of my girls, what the hell does he have to be insecure about?" you ask her, lifting the can of soda to your lips and taking another sip. You look over at your daughter, who's running around in a yellow tutu with black and white polka dot tights. She's wearing a Rolling Stones T-shirt that she made sure you helped her into this morning when you first arrived, running out of the house in a white tank top and the rest of her outfit. She's waving a magic wand as she runs around with her friends in her black converses, her laughter coming out the loudest as the ribbons she had you tie into her buns wave in the wind, her plastic tiara lopsided on her head. You're so busy watching your daughter that you don't realize she's come up to you until she speaks.

"Luke?" she asks as you stiffen when he voice washes over you, realizing that you've been communicating through texts and letters for the past six years, only hearing her voice at work. You keep your eyes trained on your daughter, not trusting yourself to look at her out of fear that you'll reach for her like you used to. "Can we talk?" she asks, trying to get you to look at her by moving into your line of sight. You look down at her, your eyes connecting as you finally give her what she wants. Your eyes are unmoving as you look at each other and you know that the spark isn't dead in your heart, and probably never would be, and you find yourself wondering how many times you can put yourself through this before you tear your heart permanently in half.

"Can you please be nicer to Mark?" she asks, reaching up to run her fingers through her hair and you realize that it's longer now, falling to about her waist in soft waves today. Effortless like those days you used to steal away together, lying with each other on the beach. She's clutching her cardigan around her shoulders and she's hugging herself in the yard. You turn your attention back to Sofia, laughing darkly and bringing the can of soda to your lips emptying the contents before tossing it into the recycling bin. "Please?" she asks again, her voice straining. You reach out to touch her then, instinctively trying to take away her pain, but you stop yourself dropping your hand back to your side, thinking better of it. You turn to walk over to the gate that separates the back yard from the front, motioning with your head for her to follow. You don't realize how stupid it was for you to isolate yourselves from witnesses until it's too late to turn back, and you realize that all these years you've literally had to restrain yourself from touching her. You open the gate for her, allowing her to walk through first, your eyes trailing down her body out of habit. You wait until the gate closes softly behind the both of you before you turn back to her.

"I didn't fight with him, Pen," you say turning to face her. "I was simply walking by when he attacked me. I'm here for Sofia," you explain, reaching up to run your fingers along your beard. "I'm here for my daughter, Pen. I'm not going to fight with you hus...Mark." you continue choking on the word husband. She's shaking her head at you, backing herself into the house.

"Don't call me that," she whispers, looking up at you with wide eyes. "You don't get to call me that anymore." You walk closer to her, shoving your hands in your pockets as she reaches out to touch your arm. You stiffen under her hand, your body reacting in the same way that you remember it always doing and before you can stop yourself you've gripped her face in both of your hands. Your mouth leaning down to quickly cover hers. Your lips move against hers for a few seconds before she starts to kiss you back, and you find that you don't care who could walk out of the party to catch you kissing the mother of your child, the married woman, the woman you never got closure with. You can feel the world shift around you. You hear the birds chirping loudly, you hear the laughter of your daughter in the back yard, you can hear Spencer telling one of his terrible jokes, you can hear the sway of the tree branches around you. You don't know how long you've stood there kissing her, but for the moment your heart feels whole, and you realize that you've been living under a fog for the last seven years. You realize that the last time you felt alive was when you were with her. You realize that you did give your life away the moment you left her, and you hope that this is your way back, or at least you do until you hear a coughing behind you. And so you slowly pull away from Penelope, who's now holding a trembling hand to her mouth with a horrified expression written across her face. You turn away from her, running your right hand over your lips while your left-hand falls into place on your hip. You realize that if kissing her was your saving grace than seeing the horrified regret splash across her face would be your untimely death. You've survived three tours, you remind yourself, you don't need to be killed on your own soil, especially not by the woman who holds your heart.

"It's time to cut the cake," Rossi says, hooking his thumb over his shoulder. "Sofia is asking for her parents." he continues, as you walk further away from the both of them, looking up to the sky and hoping it would swallow you whole in this very moment, but you've never been that lucky. You realize that the last time you felt so lucky was when you were with Penelope, and when you were with your daughter. "What are you thinking? Rossi says coming up behind you as you turn to him, exhaling a breath and shaking your head. You open your mouth to speak but find that you have no words instead, you lift your hand up to point to the gate as you open your mouth again. You find yourself staring off after her, the pressure of her lips still indented in your own. You can still feel her heaving chest against your own. You can still feel the strum of her in your veins, and you thought you were doing okay before, but you realize that your reality has been built on a fragile lie you tell yourself each morning when you awake. A lie that you have convinced yourself of. You don't need her, you try to repeat inside your head, but you've been woken, you can see clearly again. So, instead of an explanation you shout an expletive and reach out to kick the nearby tree.

"Daddy, that's my favorite tree!" you hear from behind you and you turn to look at your daughter, plastering a smile on your face as you look from her to Rossi. "Tell it you're sorry." She demands running up to you and jumping into your arms. You lift her into the air, giving her a spin and kissing her cheek. Holding her close to you is calming your rapidly beating heart, and you find that you don't feel the slightest bit guilty about breaking her marriage vows, not when you know… Not when you have the very information that could shatter her happy existence, not when you have the power to send her running back to you. But you've never been that man, you've always been the one to suffer in silence, especially if it means that you've secured her happiness. Because your girls, they're the only ones that matter now, and you'd do anything to put that smile on their faces.

"I'm sorry," you say to the tree before turning back to Sofia "don't we have a cake to cut?" you ask her as you place her back on the ground. You watch her run towards the gate where she pauses and turns back around to wave you forward. Turning back to Rossi, you let a sad smile play over your lips. "I love her," you say in explanation with a shrug of your shoulders. "I don't regret it." The other man claps you on your shoulder as he walks back into the yard. You jog after him, closing the gate behind you and walking towards Sofia, bending down beside her and wrapping your arms around her. You tell her to make a wish after the crowd has sung to her, she turns to you with a large smile before turning to blow out her candles. You find yourself making a wish of your own, a wish that she would never know pain, a wish that Penelope would look at you with something other than thinly veiled pain in her eyes, a wish that could undo all of the hurt you have caused over the years. But you've never been a wishing man, always working hard for what you wanted and holding onto it when you got it. You've always been a little selfish as well but that's a story for another time, you suppose.

"What did you wish for?" Mark asks, reaching out to ruffle her hair. She looks back at him with her hands on her hips before swatting his hand away from her head. There's a fire in her eyes that you remember seeing recently, one that you awakened in her mother when you snapped at her the other day, and you feel terrible for the person your daughter chooses to marry one day. You feel sorry for the man or woman who was sure to fall in love with your little girl, and you sure hope that their parents are raising a decent human being, one who is ready to deal with the immovable force that is Sofia Grace Alvez. You find yourself praying that they are a strong individual, with loads of patience, because they are going to need every ounce of it.

"I can't tell you that or else it won't come true!" Sofia replies before she reaches out for the plate of cake that Penelope handed her with hands that are still shaking from the earlier altercation. You stand up and reach out to take the knife from her hands with a small smile. She looks at you, lower lip trembling like your daughter's did the week before, and with slow movements, you cover her hands with your own. In that moment you want nothing more than to lean down and cover her lips with your own again, but you settle for just looking into her eyes. A fragile truce playing out between the two of you, the kiss calling a parlay between the two adults, and you wonder if maybe you can start new. You'd never be able to start fresh because that would mean that she would have to both forgive and forget, which is something you're not sure she will ever be ready to do.

"I'm sorry." you whisper out to her, and she shakes her head slightly, in what you know is Penelope speak for 'don't worry about it', but you are worried you find. You're worried that even if you and she can get back onto speaking terms, that because of your actions she would never be able to trust you again. You can't help but wonder if she trusts you now. "Let me help." You command realizing that several moments have passed since you've grasped both her hands and the knife in your own. She nods as she pulls her hands back and wraps them around herself again. You wonder what it is about living in this house with Mark that is making the love of your life turn into someone who is acting so small. Before you can tear your eyes away from Penelope, a scream cuts through the yard, cutting through your heart so quickly that you let the knife fall into the grass as you tear across the yard, and before you know it you are scooping your daughter into your arms and asking her where it hurts. You don't realize that Penelope is also by your side, trying to gather Sofia into her arms, for she took off only seconds after you did. You find that you're asking her about taking Sofia to the hospital and she's nodding with tears glittering in her soft brown eyes. You pull Sofia tighter into your chest, standing and pulling Penelope up with you as you rush them both to your truck. You double and triple check the straps on Sofia's booster seat before you climb behind the wheel and race out of the driveway. The thought doesn't escape you, nor does it surprise you when you wonder if you should ever bring them back.


	6. Chapter 6

Sofia has fallen asleep wrapped around you the moment you pull her from the car, her head lolling to the side as if you didn't just disturb her sleep. Penelope was still sitting in the front seat of your truck, which you left idling in your driveway. You knew that she was on the phone with Mark, asking him how the cleanup went after the three of you had rushed off to bring Sofia to the Emergency Room, and you smile down at your daughter placing a gentle kiss on her forehead, your eyes traveling to the yellow cast that covered her fractured arm. It was nearing nine in the evening, and neither you or Penelope were up for the hour drive back to her place. And so you both decided that she would sleep in your guest bedroom, but not after a heated discussion where she promptly told you to go fuck yourself for kissing her several hours ago. With a sad sigh you unlock your front door with the spare key that you kept under the planter and carefully walked your daughter up the stairs to her bedroom, pulling her converses off of her feet and gently untangling the ribbons from her hair, before you covered her with the blanket, tucking her bunny under her injured arm. When you come back downstairs she has kicked her shoes off and is curled up on the right side of the couch, the throw blanket that you're sure is hers anyway, wrapped tightly around her frame. She doesn't look at you as you pass by her on the way to the kitchen, one thing on your mind after this day, and that was a glass of something stronger than soda. You let yourself relax now that you know Sofia is safe, that your baby girl is going to be okay, that you have both of your girls under your roof, if only for one night. After you pour yourself a generous amount into the tumbler and knock it back, the liquid burning your throat as you swallow, you turn back to the living room to look at her.

"Are you going to pour me a drink or stare at me all night?" she asks you, her eyes never opening to meet yours, and you chuckle much like the way you used to on nights like this. Nights where she was so exhausted from working that she would peel her heels off the moment she slid into the car, nights where you would fall asleep entangled in each other both still fully clothed, nights when she still loved you. And even though she is here for the night, you have to remind yourself that she is not yours any longer, and you find yourself wondering if she was ever yours, to begin with, and you find that you can't even imagine Penelope freaking Garcia being a possession of any kind. You think better of putting the bottle back in its respective cabinet, instead sliding it under your right arm and carrying it with you into the living room. You place her glass on the table in front of her, not really sure if you could trust yourself to accidentally brush your fingers against hers before you settle yourself in the chair situated opposite of your couch. She's still wrapped up in that blanket with her eyes closed as she reaches out for the glass, draining the contents in one rather large gulp, and you find yourself entranced by the curve of her neck. You find yourself wondering how her skin would feel against your lips again.

"He's cheating," she whispers into the air between you in the living room and for a second you wonder if you heard her correctly. You can't have heard her correctly, because the Penelope you knew would never let a man treat her so callously, the Penelope you knew would never let a man make her feel worthless, the Penelope you knew would demand that he get the hell out of her house, because she was strong and independent, and fierce and so full of fire that she scared you when she was mad, the Penelope you knew… But you realize that the Penelope you knew was a woman from almost eight years ago, the Penelope you knew died the day you boarded a bus without so much as a word to her, the Penelope you knew… And so you did the only thing that you could think of in that moment, reaching over to refill her glass, and stayed silent. Because this Penelope, the woman sitting across from you right now, you didn't know this woman, but you knew without a doubt that you loved her. "With Lucy, she was at the party, and I'm pretty sure Andrea from Sofia's gymnastics class, and I think he had a thing with Allie at some point," she mutters, raising the glass to her lips once again, and instead of refilling her glass you decide to hand her the bottle.

You don't offer her condolences, you don't offer platitudes, you don't offer to run over and beat him senseless though you want nothing more than to do this. You don't offer her a place to live, you don't offer her a way out, you don't say a single fucking word, because if this is the pathetic life that this Penelope wants to live, then you realize that you love her enough to let her go, no matter how badly it hurts you. You sip on the whiskey that's still coating the bottom of your glass, your tongue darting out to lick at your lips, refusing to look at her. She's shuffling on the couch now, unwrapping herself from the blanket, standing on her own two feet and begins walking around your living room. You watch her from the chair as you nurse your drink, her slender fingers gliding along the pictures of Sofia on your walls. The pictures she was never there for, the ones of Sofia and Roxy, the ones of Sofia and your mother. The pictures of just you and Sofia out getting ice cream, or the carnival, or the beach. You watch her as she looks at the life you've built for four days a month. You close your eyes when she comes upon the lone picture of herself sitting on the table to your right, her fingers tracing along the lines of her face, it was the picture you carried with you into combat, the picture that you looked at every night before you fell asleep...if you fell asleep. It's the same picture that you used to keep in Sofia's room, closing her in every two weeks because she was a ghost, a reminder that haunted you of the mistakes that you had made. You look down at your glass as she comes to stand in front of you, her cardigan falling to the floor at your feet, her hair pulled partially over one shoulder, the strands brushing against your forearms as she leans forward over you. You stiffen as you finally look into her eyes, getting lost in the many layers of brown, getting lost in the memory of the kiss you both shared earlier that day.

You knew it was wrong when she straddled your lap. You knew it was wrong when she pressed her lips to your in a feverish kiss. You knew it was wrong when she undressed in front of you as you sipped your alcohol, your eyes following her every movement, watching as the one thing you wanted most in this world stumbled back into your life because of a fractured arm. You knew it was wrong, your upbringing shouting at you to let the woman retain some modesty, but you're a selfish man. Your brain, your heart, your cock...all yearning for the same thing. The first time that they have been aligned in years. You knew it was wrong when she reached out to you, gripping your hand in her smaller one, pulling you to your feet, your glass falling out of your grasp and clattering to the floor...shattering into tiny pieces that you find you don't care about as she lifts your shirt off of your chest. Her fingers flying to your belt buckle, and yanking the jeans down your body. She engulfs you, like flames licking wood, stoking forever as you stand in front of her naked. You knew it was wrong but you didn't care as you gripped her closer to your chest, sliding yourself into her for the first time in almost eight years in that living room, and you realize with a muted moan that sliding into her felt a lot like coming home. You knew you were ruining a marriage, but if we're being honest here, you knew it was wrong to let her get married in the first place. And so you did as you were asked, ever the good soldier, and you gave her the control that she needed, the chance to control the stakes in her life for once.

You awake the next morning to her phone ringing somewhere in the bedroom amongst the scattered clothes that you both hurriedly donned when the pizza delivery arrived at the door. You remember chasing her up the stairs, both silently sneaking past Sofia's bedroom with a nearing empty bottle of whiskey and a pizza for your bedroom. Where you immediately attacked her lips with your own, fucking her against the wall, and on the bureau, and in your shower before you both finally landed in bed, completely sated for the time being. She's drawing lazy circles across your chest, your right arm draped around her shoulders and you realize that her phone is in her hands with the ringer turned down. You roll onto your side, leaning forward to capture her lips in a heated kiss, pulling her closer to you as her ringtone dies down again, and immediately after it begins to play as you cover her body with your own, nudging her legs apart with your knee. You don't stop until you hear a loud and persistent banging on your front door and angry shouts of her name. She looks at you with a slow smile, pulling you down onto her again, whispering for you to hurry up before he wakes Sofia, and it becomes real to you in that moment that you'd do anything to be with this woman, including participating in an affair, but as you continue to love the woman underneath you, you find that you don't care.

Running your fingers through your hair as you stand from the bed, sliding a pair of sweatpants onto your frame, you race down the stairs and pull the door open for Mark ushering him into the house. Neither of you cleaned up the living room the night before, the shattered glass still sat at the base of the chair, her glass still sat on the coffee table, the blanket still strewn over the hardwood floor because it was too cold for her back, her panties still lay on the side of the end table, hanging precariously over the picture of her. When you turn back to him with a sheepish smile, she's fully dressed and coming down the stairs with a yawning Sofia, who runs to you the minute she sees you, wrapping her arms around your waist. You find yourself kneeling down to her level, placing a kiss on her forehead and promising her that you will see her next Friday. Penelope is quickly pulling her hair into a loose braid, her eyes lingering on your chest for far longer than was comfortable for the other adult in the room. She reaches out to touch your arm, grazing her fingers over your skin, in a silent thank you.

"I'll call you," she says, ushering Sofia out of the house and to the car without a look back at you. You turn to look at Mark, smirking at him as you walk over to the pink panties picking them up and placing them in your pocket. He's standing in your living room, still unmoving as his eyes dart around the scene before him, and you wonder if you have the energy left to tell him to get out, and you find that you don't. You're sure that you'll be upset when you realize that she's gone again, but right now you're still high from being with her.

"She knows," you say to the other man, as he turns to leave, you're reaching down to pick up the blanket a soft reminder of the night before, you sigh before you continue turning to look at him. "About Lucy, and Andrea, and Allie."

* * *


	7. Chapter 7

"I'm pregnant." she begins, while you're lying together in your bed, her head settled softly on your chest, your right arm draped lazily around her shoulders. Her palm is tracing over your stomach, fingers dipping in and out of the rivets created by the abs you used to be so proud of, but are now just another part of your body that you're more than willing to share with her, for the rest of your life. There is a happiness surging through your body at the announcement she just made, and you finally feel as if you can do it all over again, be there for her the way you should have been when she was carrying Sofia. You vowed silently to be there for every appointment, every craving, every sleepless night between now and the day your children are ready to leave home for good. You smile, letting your happiness overtake you for the moment as you pull her closer to you, placing a kiss on her forehead, breathing softly against her. "And it may not be yours." you stiffen around her, her husband filling the forefront of your mind, and you realize that of course, it could be his as well. You realize that it was stupid of you to automatically assume that the child was yours considering you had been sleeping with her on the weekends for the past couple of months, but that she was still married. She was still living with Mark, sleeping in the same bed. She knew that Mark was cheating, and Mark knew that she was aware of his transgressions, but Penelope...she was still in the dark about your involvement with the exchanging of information. You realize that you have two choices at this moment, either accept the child no matter who its father was, or you could get angry with her and force her from your life entirely.

"But it's yours and that's all that matters to me," you reply pulling her closer to you under the covers, clutching her to your body, placing a kiss on her cheek. "I'm here." you continue speaking as she's shaking her head against your chest. "We can move you and Sofia in, there's more than enough room for the four of us," you say, running your hand down her arm ignoring the panicked way her breathing was coming in, ignoring the way she was trying to distance herself from you, your arms tightening around her body, clinging to every pretense that she was going to stay. You ignore the way the hair on the back of your neck was standing up, the electric charge in the room turning south, but you realize that you love this woman so much, that you're so attached to her that you would ignore every sign of her trying to leave you. You keep whispering to her, promising her the world, telling her that you would happily turn the guest bedroom into a nursery, asking what color she would like, asking her if she hoped it was a boy or a girl. You found yourself getting lost in the span of a few seconds, your mind traveling nine months to when you and Penelope, Sofia, and your new child were happily sitting around the living room and watching some Disney movie Sofia was currently obsessed with. But when you pull yourself from the fairy tale that you've created you look at her, and that's when you notice the tears.

"No.," she says, pulling herself away from you and for a moment you're confused before the realization hits you. By the time you lift yourself up to lean against the headboard, the sheets pooling at your bent waist, she's pulling her clothes over her frame. You watch her as she guards herself against you, reverting back into the woman from five months ago, the woman who could barely stand to look at you from across the lawn as your daughter races towards you and the truck that would be carting her away for the weekend. "I can't uproot Sofia for whatever this is, it's not fair to her," she says, keeping her back towards you. It's in this moment that you realize that you can't go back to having Sofia every other weekend, you can't go back to spending your weekends alone without your girls, you find that you don't want to relearn to live without her, but that's what she was currently asking you to do. The realization washing over you like cold water on a warm day, your senses on high alert now.

"So you're going back to Mark," you say darkly, your eyes meeting hers through the mirror. You don't have to ask her, but you let the words linger between the both of you, letting the hurt in your voice wash over her, letting the betrayal sink into her skin for a few moments. You realize that she has never looked more beautiful to you, hair disheveled, freshly kissed lips… She nods at you and you find yourself cursing loudly, your hands gripping the sheets around you. "Then what the hell was this, Penelope?" you say, standing and pulling the nearest pair of pants onto your frame. The anger you feel rushing through your bones escaping with the words, the biting edge of your tone causing her to flinch away from you, the rise in your voice causing her to gasp, she's never heard you like this before you realize. She's never heard how low your voice gets when you're so angry that your body shakes with the pent-up rage. She's never looked at you like you're deadly. You have to remind yourself that your daughter is asleep down the hall, and Penelope was staying behind to spend the weekend with the both of you like she had been doing for the past three months. You realize that you had deluded yourself into thinking that you were getting your family back. You acknowledge that you have lived your life in delusions for the past eight years and you're gripping your hips with such intensity that you're sure you'll bruise yourself. You're past angry, you've surpassed livid because she knows how you feel about her, you've told her as much each weekend when she fell asleep beside you. You've whispered it to her as you made love to her, you've told it to her as you both sat on your couch with Sofia between you, clutching her fingers in your own behind your daughter's head. You've shown her...

"I don't know," she admits, sounding smaller with each syllable. You're staring at her, mouth hanging open, eyes hard. She's trembling before you, inhaling shakily before she speaks again, your entire world collapsing around you with her words. "I'll always love what we had, what we have, and I hope that we can be better parents to Sofia going forward, but I can't punish him for the same things I did." The words continue to ring in your head, your heart constricting from the knowledge that she was forgiving him, forgiving him because she had gotten her revenge. She had used you, casually destructing your entire existence, giving you a glimpse of what your life could have been like had only communicated years ago, giving you a taste of what it would be like to love her for the rest of your life, only to rip it away from you. You find that the knowledge of her using you like one of her computer systems, you blind enough to play into her hand, doesn't hurt you the way it should have. Instead you look at her, actually look at her, and realize that she doesn't look happy to be having this conversation, and you decide that if she's going to be as miserable as you are, that you can let her go. You can be strong enough to let her go back to her miserable life, but you'd be damned if you weren't going to fight for more time with your daughter.

"Okay," you say, dropping your hands to your sides, the anger leaving you with one word. All you want if for her to be happy and you tell her as much while you run your fingers across your face, tracing your lips that are still bruised from her biting them hours before. You want to tell her that you love her, that you'll always love her but if what she wants is a relationship with a man who will sleep with anything...you'll let her go without a fight. You want to tell her that you want more time with Sofia. You want to tell her that if this child is yours that you want the same amount of time with it as well. You want to tell her that you'll let her walk out of your life, never speaking of these three months you both spent together if it's what she truly wanted. You want to tell her that you'll be there for everything no matter what Mark says if the child is yours. You want to tell her so much, but your words are currently failing you, and so you say nothing at all. You stand there, wanting so badly to articulate the thoughts racing through your mind, but all you can do is smile sadly at her wondering why your heart is beating so rapidly as your dying.

"Okay?" she repeats turning to face you "Is that all you're going to say?" You scoff, laughing darkly at the fact that there was so much that you wanted to say, knowing that now was the moment you could get it all off of your chest, but you remain standing there looking at her. You realize that you have to do something, that she's waiting for you to say something.

"What else is there to say? You've made up your mind," you reply, turning to pick up your clothes off of the floor. "You're going back to your husband, where you will have the perfect family, with the 2.5 children, the picket fence...you want to take Roxy since you're giving him everything that I love?" you lash out, the words rushing out of you before you can hold them back, rushing out before you can censor yourself, because in this moment you don't want to hurt her more than she is already hurting. But you realize that you're hurting too, you remember how you felt when you left, scared and alone. You remember how you felt when you came back, still scared, still alone, but at least you had Sofia. And then four years later you got her back, and you made the most of it with each weekend, secret kisses, secret dates, whispered declarations of love across her skin. Before you can open your mouth to apologize she walks over to you, placing her hands on your chest and shoving you backward, fire in her eyes. There's the Penelope that you know, you think to yourself, the one who only seems to come out now when you're arguing.

"That's not fair," she says, sounding much like Sofia when you tell her she can't have dessert before dinner. She pushes you again, her small hands beating against your chest as you clutch your laundry in your arms, and you notice the tears in her eyes, the ones that fall down her cheeks when she blinks, her voice rising with each blow she delivers to your chest. "You left me!" she cries out, reaching out to slap you. You stand there, letting her hit you, letting her finally get the words out of her mouth, words that she had been harboring for years you realize, as neither of you had gotten closure. You had never explained the letter you left her, never explained that you never meant to fall in love with her, that you never expected to meet her, that you never expected that you'd get called away again. You didn't ever expect to have a family, one that you were willing to die for. "You left a note, a fucking note Luke, and then you left me. You don't get to judge me," she says harshly, pushing against your chest for a final time, her shoulders slumping under the weight of the words.

"I know," you respond, dropping the laundry between you and reaching out to pull her shaking frame into your chest. Your right-hand presses her head to your chest, your left hand sliding around her waist, as you lean your forehead against her hair. "I'm sorry," you mutter into the blonde tresses, trying to soothe her with four words. You can feel her tears against your chest, and you're sure that your own is falling into her hair as you clutch her to you, trying to get her to realize that you've never been sorrier for anything in your life. You've never wanted to take back a single decision you've ever made, not until that one. You've never wanted a re-do in life, but if it meant you could be with her forever, without any interruptions, you would take everything back.

"Stay" you demand, placing a kiss on her cheek. "Just until the morning, we'll have breakfast with Sofia and then you can go and we can go back to how things used to be." You say, your heart breaking with each word that slips through your lips. You know that you'll never be able to get the smell of her out of your house, the feel of her out of your sheets. You'll never be able to get her out of your veins, and you decide that if you're going to spend the rest of your life without her by your side, then you're going to love her for what little time you have left. You press your mouth to hers, tasting the salt from the tears on her lips, and with a shaky breath, you lift her into your arms, carrying her back to the bed. It's not until later that night when she's asleep beside you that you pull a notebook out of your nightstand, pen poised in your hand that you write to her the letter you should have written all those years ago. You decide that if she is leaving you for good this time, she's going to get the closure you denied the both of you years ago. You decide that if she is currently carrying your child, again, you wouldn't leave her with bullshit excuses. You write down everything you wished you had ever said, slipping it into her purse before crawling back into the bed and drawing her closer to you. You lay with your eyes open, preparing yourself for the final night of rest you'll ever get. You doubt you'll sleep as well without her, as you do with her.

"I'll always love you," you whisper into the darkness, pressing a kiss to the back of her neck as you close your eyes, drifting off to sleep. You don't want to wake up in the morning you realize, knowing that she'll be leaving and you wonder if this is how her heart broke all those years ago. You fall asleep with the knowledge that you destroyed her.


	8. Chapter 8

There's a light dusting of snow that covers the roads as you drive to pick up Sofia six months later for her Christmas vacation. The sun had already set as you speed along the highway, trying to make up for lost time that you were stuck trying to get away from your neighbor, who was asking questions about Penelope. You realize that she had gotten to know those who lived around you when she was coming around, and after her abrupt departure from your life, you had withdrawn from those whose lives had gone on without change. The radio was softly broadcasting an overplayed rendition of Silent Night as you pressed your foot on the brake pedal, slowing in order to take the exit that would lead you to Penelope's house. Everything had changed in the past six months, you realize, you and Penelope reverting back to the way things used to be before, she could barely look you in the eye after she got your letter. Instead, sending you a simple thank you text message, and you wonder if you did the right thing by giving her the closure she needed in order to move on.

When you pull up to the house, Sofia is waiting just inside the screen door, and you can hear her excited shouts of "Daddy's here!" as you exit the car, her voice and the sound of your boots crunching into the frozen over snow as you walk to the front door the only sounds that you can hear. Sofia exits the house like a bullet, colliding with your knees as you laugh, reaching down to place your hand on the back of her head. She looks up at you, resting her chin on your stomach as she grips your thighs in her arms. "I missed you!" she says, causing your heart to fill with happiness at her words. You smile down at her, letting her know that you missed her too, reaching into your pocket gripping small box between your fingers. You lean down to give her a kiss, telling her that you're going to grab her bags for the week, and then you would be going to her Abuela's, to which she jumped with excitement. "Will Dani be there?" she asks before racing off for the truck, clamoring into the back seat. With a sigh you turn around and walk to the door, pressing your finger on the button and listen for the doorbell to chime through the house.

Your breath catches in your throat when you see her get off of the couch, her stomach rounded in a way you've never seen before, and she clutches the small of her back as she slowly makes her way to you. There's a calm on her face that you're not sure you've ever seen before, and you find that your heart is still so full of love for the woman in front of you, that you have no words to say as you fidget with the black box, opening the door to hand it to her. You chuckle when her eyes widen as she takes in the ring thats sitting on a small black velvet cushion, your left hand reaching into the doorway to grab Sofia's small suitcase, and when you stand she's looking at you with an intensity you can't place. You reach up to scratch the back of your head, nervousness seeping through your pores. You open your mouth to say something, before thinking better of it, and begin to turn to walk down the steps. You're halfway to your truck before you turn back to look at her. "If you decide you want something other than this," you say gesturing to the house and the missing husband before you turn back towards your truck. "If not, sell it, but after eight years..." you trail off giving her a small smile. "Anyway, I'll have her call you tonight before bed. Merry Christmas, Penelope."

When you get to your mother's house, you turn the car off and sit behind the wheel for a few moments, gathering your thoughts before taking Sofia out of the car and walking into the too warm house. Making sure to remove Sofia's jacket before setting her loose on the other members of your family. You spend the night nursing a glass of soda as you watch your daughter interact with her cousins, and her aunts and uncles, and your mother, your heart swelling with pride as she gracefully tells them tales of her year. It's not until she gets to her birthday weekend that you begin to get alarmed, but you remain still in your seat near your mother as Sofia talks about breaking her arm, and that after that Penelope and you spent every weekend with her until it was completely healed. At this point in the conversation, your mother has already started looking at you.

"And then Mom's belly started to get big and she told me that I was going to have a brother or sister." she finishes before picking up her fork and placing a piece of ham into her mouth. "Abuela this is the best ham," she says, humming as she chews the piece of meat in her mouth. You cough clearing your throat before quickly shoving a bite of food into your mouth, reaching out to wipe a piece of bread of off Sofia's red dress. At this point, you're not sure what is going to happen as your family has stilled their movements around you, your brother looking at you with a smirk, his wife slapping his arm when he whispers something to her. Your mother is looking at you with disappointment and you shake your head, your eyes darting to Sofia who is still happily humming as she eats her dinner. "Oh!" she exclaims "And Mark says that Daddy should be ashamed of himself...whatever that means." It's at this point where you begin to laugh, reaching up to run your hands over your face, the hilarity of the situation bubbling over. How in the hell did your life get like this? You were supposed to marry that woman, you were supposed to grow old with her, but this...this wasn't in the cards for you.

When Sofia has opened her presents and fallen asleep on the couch with Daniela, both of the girls curled around each other, and you're sure that she won't be able to hear you do you walk back into the kitchen where your mother is waiting as she washes the dishes. Silently she hands you a towel and you begin to dry whatever is sitting in the strainer. She doesn't open her mouth to speak to you, choosing instead to berate you with her silence, the disappointment hanging in the space between your shoulders. You choose to remain silent as well, waiting for your brother and Beth to enter the kitchen before you explain what a mess your life had turned into.

"He had an affair." you say, turning to put the stack of plates into the cabinet, "And when Sofia broke her arm at her party we spent hours in the ER, and by the time we left it was nearing ten at night. I was exhausted and so was Sofia, and Penelope too for that matter so we ended up back at my house. The kid is probably mine." you admit to the room, grateful that your hands have something to do other than fidget in front of you. "I hope the kid is mine at least," you announce, letting the secret slip through your lips, something you refused to say before this very moment. You had tried to steel your heart against the fact that the kid could be Mark's, knowing full well that you don't want it to be his, clinging to the last hope that you could reunite your family. You continue to tell them of the fight that last night before you decided to let her go for good, knowing full well that she could have been carrying your child. You tell them that if being with Mark is what was going to make her happy, then you were willing to step aside and continue being there for Sofia and the new child if it was in fact yours. You don't have to look at your family in order to judge their reactions, you know that your mother is disappointed in you but excited at the prospect of another grandchild, you know that your brother has called you stupid from the day you left telling you that you should have held onto Penelope at all costs. Beth, however, has always understood your actions and so she comes over to wrap you in a hug, not at all surprised when you grip her with a sob. You don't realize how much her leaving you still affected you until you let yourself succumb to the emotions that you have kept locked away for half of the year. You didn't realize that while you were pretending to be strong for Sofia, pretending that everything was okay for your small child, that you were breaking inside. You didn't realize...you never do.

"Daddy?" you release Beth, quickly wiping at your eyes before turning to greet your daughter. She's holding your phone up to you, the screen notifying you of an active call. "Mom's on the phone." she continues, walking further into the room to hand you the phone, her arms reaching up in her sleepy state. You pick her up, her head falling to your shoulder and her eyes closing as you place your phone to your ear, listening to the panicked breathing of the other woman on the line. Your heart begins to race as you listen to her cries, wondering why she's calling you. But then she says it, lets you know that she's gone into labor, that she's alone, that Mark is nowhere to be found. And a large part of you wants to exclaim that he is probably out with Lucy, or Andrea, or Allie, but you don't. Instead you steel yourself against the hope that her voice on your phone has given you, closing your heart off to the ache it is feeling when you hear her yell out in pain, and promise her that you're on your way to the hospital to be with her, because this time she's not alone. You find yourself thinking back to the day she told you that she was pregnant, the day that you promised her you would be there. You think back to the letter you wrote her, and the promises you scribbled onto that page before you turn to your family, silently asking them to watch Sofia for the night. Before you leave the house you kiss her goodnight.

When you get to the hospital you find that you aren't sure where to go. You're frantic as you run up to the information booth, spewing nonsense about labor and the gentleman behind the desk directs you to the Maternity Ward, continuing to give you directions as you race down the hallway. You don't allow yourself the time to think about what this could mean for you, choosing instead to believe that she didn't want to be alone for the birth of this child considering she was alone for the birth of Sofia. As you enter the room you can hear her talking to herself like she does when she's nervous, and you can't help the smile that breaks out across your face.

"Hey," you say as you enter the room, pulling the curtain back around you as you settle into the nearest chair. She's piled her long hair into a bun on the top of her head, keeping most of it out of her face for what is about to come.

"I'm sorry I called," she says, face contorting into a grimace as she cries out in pain, and though you've let her go your heart still aches at the fact that she's in pain. Reaching out you grasp her hand in yours, a silent show of solidarity between the two of you. A tether to let her know that she's not alone in this, not this time. You shake your head at her as another contraction tears through her, and you wonder why anyone would want to go through this pain a second time. Sitting with her is easy, watching her sleep is easy, calling your family with updates is easy, holding her while she gives birth is the hardest thing you've ever had to do. Holding her body as she screams in pain tears something inside of you, the protectiveness you feel for this woman causes you to want to take every ounce of hurt that will ever come to her. But instead, you pull her hair back from her face, and let her squeeze your hand, and curse at you, and push you away before pulling you back in.

"We need another push, Penelope. You're doing great." the doctor says before Penelope begins to cry.

"I can't. It's too much," she responds, throwing herself back onto the pillows, the fight visibly leaving her body. And you recognize this moment from movies, and tv shows, this is the moment you're supposed to jump in with platitudes and a long-winded speech about how she is the strongest person you know, and that you're here for her, and that this pain is nothing compared to the love of the child she is about to bring in this world. But that's not what she needs you here for today.

"I'm here," you promise, placing a kiss on her hairline. "No matter what."


	9. Chapter 9

"I didn't want a sister," Sofia says crossing her arms over her chest, her bottom lip jutting out. You chuckle as you flip the pancakes on the stove, shanking your head at your daughter as you slide her pancakes in front of her. To be honest, you're just glad that the child is healthy, that Penelope is healthy, that they are both leaving the hospital in a few hours, and that the question of who the father of this baby is will be answered today at some point. Sofia is still sitting at the breakfast bar with unshed tears lingering in her eyes, and you laugh again, pushing the fork closer to her hand as you pick up your own and begin to eat. "I wanted a brother, like you have Uncle Daniel." she says with a sad smile, poking the blueberry pancake with her finger, tearing a piece off and bringing it to her mouth.

"Brothers are a pain, Sof," you say, continuing to eat your breakfast as she slowly picks up her fork and begins to feed herself. "You have a sister, a forever friend." you amend the previous statement. She looks up at you, blueberry smeared on her top lip, giving you a grin and you notice that her two front teeth are starting to grow back in. You smile back at her, reaching out to wipe the blueberry from her face with your thumb, wiping the mess on a nearby paper towel.

"Will my sister be able to come here?" she asks, her eyes trained on her plate and you sigh heavily, the conversation turning once again to the place you had been avoiding for the week that Penelope had been in the hospital. Putting your fork down you reach over to bring your coffee cup to your lips, the hot liquid burning your tongue as you take a large gulp, hoping that if you stall enough her attention will turn to the next question. "Will she, Daddy?" she asks, continuing to prod her food with her fork. You sit back in your chair, clearing your throat and thinking of the best way to answer your daughter's question. You've fought in a war, chased down serial killers several times a month, created a child, changed diapers, but the thought of breaking your daughter's heart gives you pause.

"I hope she will be able to come here." you finally say, reaching out to wipe a tear from Sofia's cheek. "I hope that she will have a room here like you do." Of all the things you could have said, you chose to go for hope, knowing that you shouldn't explain to your daughter that her sister may not be your daughter, because that would only open you up to more uncomfortable questions. You're grateful when Sofia picks up her fork and continues eating, satisfied for now with the answer that you have given her. You continue to sip your coffee as you look at your daughter, remembering when you bought this house when she was just turning three years old. You remember letting her climb up the stairs by herself to pick her own room, you remember holding her on your shoulders as you picked out paint colors for her bedroom, and you remember the late hours you spent that same night as she slept in your bed as you meticulously painted her walls the shade of green she wanted.

"I love you, Daddy." she says pulling you from your thoughts, and you look over at her and smile. She's managed to get blueberry on her face again, and she uses the back of her arm to further create a mess. You chuckle as you take another sip of your coffee, turning to look at the pictures that adorn your walls, following the same path that Penelope did almost a year ago. Your eyes finally landing on the single picture of her, and you realize in that moment that your heart doesn't hurt as much as it used to when you look at her smiling face in the photograph. You remember the night you both shared, the whispered confessions of love from her lips to yours. You remember the empty promises that passed between you in the moment, both of you full of hope that this could be it. But it never was, you decide, you and Penelope freaking Garcia were never meant to be more than two ships passing in the night, each lucky enough to dock in the same port from time to time. You decide that the best thing to come from your brief relationship with the woman was the little girl sitting in front of you.

"I love you too, Sofia." you say, finishing your pancakes and putting the plate in the sink. "We've got to clean you up before we go visit your mother and sister." you continue, leaving the room to draw a bubble bath for Sofia, making sure to add all of the toys that she still loved to play with. When she comes bounding into the room, Roxy is at her heels whining and you reach out to scratch her behind the ears. "I love you too, Roxy." you say, pressing your forehead to her snout. You realize that you can live this life with your two girls, and hopefully a third. You spend your time wondering what you did in life to be blessed enough to be surrounded by women. When you turn back to your daughter she is already submerged in the bubbles, her Ariel doll drenched as she is singing _Under the Sea_ and making the mermaid swim through the obstacles her other floating toys have created. You let her play for a while, effectively killing time before you drive to the hospital. You sent Penelope a text message, asking her if she needed anything, her reply being a ride home which made you cringe, not ready to have her so far away from you again. But when you made the decision to let her live her life, you also made the decision to be happy for her, no matter what she chose. When bath time is finished you pull a blow dryer from under the sink and proceed to use it on her head, while she laughs at you because apparently you're doing it all wrong, Daddy. You struggle to french braid her hair, trying to remember the tutorials you were watching a few days ago before you drag her hair into a ponytail, making sure to clip a replica of Roxy's collar around her head. You place a gentle kiss on her forehead, telling her to go grab her coat and boots.

The drive to the hospital is long and tedious, with Sofia repeating over and over that she didn't want a sister. The small child devolving into tears several times in the twenty minutes it takes to get from your front door to the hospital. You have to keep reassuring her that while the new baby, who still doesn't have a name you realize, is a girl she will love Sofia no matter what.

"But what if you and mom love her more than you love me?" she asks, causing your heart to clench at her words, and when you look at her through your rearview mirror you notice that she is silently crying, her finger clutching onto the purple bunny that she recently started carrying around again. You smile at her, pulling the truck over to the side of the road and turning in your seat to look at her.

"Sofia, your mother and I will always love you. No matter what happens, no matter how many siblings you get, no matter who else may come in and out of our lives, you will always be loved." you say, reaching out to tug on the end of her ponytail. She swats your hands away from her head.

"I know I'll be loved, Daddy. But what if you love her more!" she says, clearly exasperated with you. You laugh again, louder this time as your daughter crosses her arms over her chest and glares at you.

"How could I ever love anyone more than you?" you ask her, turning back to the road and pulling the truck back into traffic. "Daddy's heart is so big I could love one hundred people, and I would never love a single one of them more than I love you!" you exclaim as you turn onto the street that will take you to the hospital.

"What about Roxy?" she asks you, sniffling. You shake your head.

"Roxy loves you more than anyone, the minute she met you she forgot all about me." you explain to Sofia, pulling your car into a parking spot before getting out of the truck and walking around to her door.

"Even Abuela?" she asks, climbing up to your hip and wrapping her arms around your neck as you cleared off the spot on the backseat for the additional car seat that would be installed in a few hours.

"Oh, Abuela loves you more than anyone!" you say, shock lacing your features. "She loves you more than she loves me and I'm her son!" you continue, walking through the hospital doors and directly into the gift shop where you walk around until Sofia had found the perfect stuffed animal for her baby sister. When you get to the register you let her pay for the gift with bills in your wallet, watching as her face scrunched in concentration. When you both enter the elevator you place her down and kneel in front of her. "Sofia, when a new baby is born the adults don't shift the love from one child to another. Our hearts are built so that they can expand to love so many people all at the same time. So I will love you always, and I will love this new baby always because she is a part of you and mommy, and I will love your mother always because she gave me you." you explain, reaching out to place a kiss on her nose.

As the doors to the elevator open in front of you, Sofia grips your hand in her small one, giving it a gentle squeeze before dragging you into the hallway. You hadn't been to the hospital since Christmas day, when you helped Penelope through labor, instead letting Beth and your mother bring Sofia over to see her mother and baby sister. And so you realize that when you walk to her room and knock on the door that you're trembling. You pause at the door when Sofia runs into the room, climbing up onto the bed and peering into the bassinet in order to get a look at her sister. You lean against the door, folding your arms across your chest and smile, trying to calm your racing heart as you look at the three females. As if she could sense someone watching her, Penelope looks up and smiles at you, beckoning you forward, gently she lifts the newborn out of her temporary bed and into your arms. You look down at the small child, your breath hitching in your throat, as a tear escapes your eye and travels down your cheek.

"Luke," she whispers, keeping her hand on your arm. "I'd like for you to meet Mariana Hope Alvez." she continues, your eyes never leaving the small child in your arms, your daughter.


	10. Chapter 10

One Year Later:

You watch your daughter twirl around on the stage, her hair done into a slick bun, her feet tapping out of tune with the beat of the song that is filling the air around you. She took her time to wave at you every few seconds, causing the people in the crowd to chuckle before she went back to her dance. You got in late this morning from a case, barely taking the time to shower and take a nap before you had to rush out of your house in order to get to the recital on time. In the last eight and a half years the only thing you've missed was her birth, and you decided that you wanted to keep it that way. There were a lot of things that you were willing to do for your girls, and it literally included going all over the country to make sure that they were always safe. You smile down at the daughter you currently were cradling in your arms. She was silently watching her sister on stage with her fist in her mouth, as you place a gentle kiss on her forehead. You don't take your eyes off of Sofia, pride shining so brightly in your eyes as you watch her stumble over her feet. The applause around you rouses you from your thoughts, signaling the end of the song, and you use your hands to clap Mariana's. You smile up at Sofia as she takes a bow on the stage, her mother is beside you clapping wildly and howling the loudest over everyone around her. You look over at her and smile, insanely happy that you've created these two beautiful girls together.

"Daddy!" the sound of Sofia's voice from the stage causes another ripple of laughter through the crowd, you wave at her passing Mariana off to Penelope as you jog down to the stage to catch Sofia as she jumps off the platform and into your arms, trusting as she did that you would always catch her. "Did you like my dance?" she asks and you find yourself nodding your head and smiling at her, reaching in to kiss her cheeks.

"Did I like it?" you tap your fingers on your chin, pretending to think about your answer. "I loved it," you whisper to her, tapping her on the nose. "You did a wonderful job, Sof." You tell her, as you carry her on your back to her mother and sister who is now loudly gabbing nonsense as she sees her sister, who just so happens to be her favorite person in the world. You smile brighter as you usher the women out of the auditorium, offering ice cream as a reward for a job well done, and handing your daughter a bag that housed the pink iPod you and Penelope had argued about. With Sofia turning eight in a few months you wanted to give her something that would help her express her love of music in a way that wouldn't disturb the rest of the people she was around.

Years ago you remember sitting in the back of a church watching the woman you love walk down the aisle towards another man. Several years later she's sitting in the passenger seat of your truck with her legs tucked underneath her. You look over and smile at her as you drive your girls to the local ice cream shop. As you drive you let your mind wander back to the day that Penelope announced that Mariana was, in fact, yours, the smile that stayed on your face the entire day never faded as you called your family, letting them know the good news. As you talked to the nurses, explaining that these beautiful girls were your doing, that you couldn't be happier for the family you created. And you could finally explain to Sofia that yes, her sister would be able to come to your house and have her own room.

"That'll be $19.94 sir." the voice brings you back to the present, as you fish your wallet out of your back pocket, handing over the bills in order to complete the transaction. You look down at your daughter who is happily licking up her ice cream and Penelope who is spoon-feeding tiny amounts of frozen yogurt to Mariana. You let your mind wander back to that same day when she asked you for a ride home, telling you that you were going the wrong way when you guided your truck onto the highway after you double checked both of the girl's car seats several times over, realizing in that moment that you would have another indentation in the fabric of your back seat of your truck and that you've never been happier. You looked at her quickly with confusion laced in your features. She rattled off an address and it takes you a moment before you realize that it's your address. You didn't think that your smile could spread wider across your face but in that moment it did, and you pressed the gas pedal a little harder, guiding your truck home with your girls.

"Babe?" her voice pulls you back to the present. "You've been out of it today," she says, reaching out to pluck the cherry off the top of your sundae. You chuckle and tap the back of her hand with your spoon. She quickly pops the cherry into her mouth, tossing the stem at you.

"Here daddy, you can have mine," Sofia says and you turn to her, gasping in surprise as she holds up a cherry covered in whipped cream. You lean over, mouth open to eat the cherry before she squeals and quickly shoves it into her mouth, letting out a peal of laughter that causes your heart to warm.

Later that night after both girls have been bathed, tucked in, and read to, you slide under the covers of your own bed. You're leaning up against the headboard and you have a book open in your lap when she comes into the bedroom from the bathroom, rubbing lotion into her hands.

"I want another one," she says to you, sliding into bed curling her arm around your waist. You chuckle, pressing a kiss on the top of her head before you close the book you have been trying to read for the past year. You bring her hand up to yours, pressing a kiss to the finger above her wedding bands.

"You do, do you?" You ask before you roll over her, covering her body with your own, you kiss her.

"I've always loved you, Luke," she whispers as she wraps her hands around your neck, responding to the kiss with a muted moan. You pull back from the kiss, laying your forehead against her.

"Almost always." you respond, before capturing her lips with yours again, silencing the laughter that is bubbling up your throat.

"Shut up and put a baby in me." she says, lips pressed against yours as she runs her hands up your back, sliding your shirt over your head.

"As you wish, Mrs. Alvez."

* * *


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is Luke's letter to Penelope.

I'm sitting here while you sleep beside me, did you know that you snore? For years you've been living with the fact that I left you, but let's ignore that I left for a job, let's ignore that I left because I had a duty to my country and the people of it...because it doesn't change the fact that I left you, alone, after I promised I wouldn't. I wasn't the first guy to give you false hope, but I wanted to be the last. The pain was supposed to stop with me. The tears were supposed to stop with me. You were supposed to be with me. But, I left, and I did it in the worst way. I accept that I am the reason you and I will never be together again. I accept that I am the reason you said yes to dating Mark, I accept that I alone am the cause of this rift between us.

I don't have excuses because they'd all be fabrications in order to make myself feel better, seem better, look better to those around us, but the only opinions that matter are yours and Sofia's. I do everything I do to ensure your happiness and hers. I want to thank you for bringing her into this world, into my life, into my heart. I want to thank you for the rest of my life, but I'll do it as the father of your child and not your husband. I want you to know that I'm sorry for everything that I've done, even dragging you into this affair, ruining your integrity. But I also want you to know that these three months have been amazing for me, for us, and I'm glad we got to grow as a family. Because with you I will always be whole, I will always belong, I will always be home.

I want to fight for you, for us, for our family, for the hope that will always be in my heart...but we just can't seem to get our timing right and that's okay, I understand that now. You're right when you say that it's not fair to Sofia to uproot her life for something that may not work out, and I understand that you also mean it's not fair to you. I'm unreliable at best, I put that image in your mind. Just know that no matter what happens I will always be there for Sofia, for this new child, and for you. I will do my best. I will keep my word.

I would move the sun and the moon if it would make you happy, if it would truly bring you home to me. And if you ask me to, I will wait forever to spend one more day with you. I love you, my lucky Penny, and all I want is for you to get that fairy tale, even if your happy ending isn't with me.

Almost yours, always yours

Luke


End file.
